Remembering Our Histories
by PurpleLuna98
Summary: The Cold War. The Great Wars. The revolutions. The assassinations. The treaties. The alliances. The betrayals. The victories, the losses. What do these all have in common? They all connect history - but not just world history, like most think. No, these make up our histories. A collection of various points in history. Includes everything that is suggested by you or that I think of.
1. Treaty of Second Ends

_**Hello, my readers! This fic is something that I have been encouraged to write, and it will basically be a collection of a whole bunch of jumbled points in history suggested to me by you guys, or thought of by yours truly! This is purely for everyone's entertainment (you reading, me researching... Yes. It's true. I love history.), so flames and bashes will hopefully not be seen here! Now, let's get on with it then, shall we?**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything! Also, note: I don't really know if Henry Clay and John Quincy Adams acted this way, but it is how I imagined them. **_

_**Warnings: mentions of war, suggestions of war, threats, talk of war, and minor cussing**_

_**Song of the Chapter: Miss Me by Andy Grammar **_

* * *

_So, this is the section I'll be writing a bit of necessary background on the history of the story. You can skip this (who's stopping you?), but it is recommended that you read this if you don't know anything about the topic._

_Background: So, it's December 24th, 1814. The War of 1812 has been raging for the last two years, give or take, between Britain and the United States. Canada has also been in the mix, angered by the US supposedly trying to annex them back in 1812. There has been some majorly bloody campaigns and battles (Chesapeake, New Orleans, Ludy's Lane) and some attacks on both capitols (Burning of Washington, and I think some Americans burned Ottawa, too). Britain, seeing that this war was winning nothing but more bloodshed, offered a peace treaty to the United States, and they met in a territory of Holland (Ghent. Current-day Belgium) to discuss the terms. America sent some of their best officials, John Quincy Adams, son of the second president, John Adams, Henry Clay, and Albert Gallatin. The British Empire sent some random minor officals that no one cared about (at least not enough to post their names anywhere .). That's about where we are. The story starts with Quincy telling America about the suggestion of a treaty._

* * *

**The Treaty of Second Ends: The Treaty of Ghent**

1814

December 24

* * *

Quincy sat at America's bedside. The boy just hadn't been the same since the Burning of Washington, and there was a nasty burn mark that took up his entire left breast. The Chesapeake campaign was worse on the boy emotionally and physically, though. It was very bloody, and America had been horrified that Britain had done such atrocities. He had many scars from that campaign. Among those scars, he also had fresh wounds on his leg and on both of his wrists and lacing up his right arm.

The start of the war had made America very depressed. It was bad enough that Britain was purposefully attempting to get him to start a war, which he did with help and support of Congress, but then when the British troops had come to start it, America had found out that his own brother, Canada, had joined in the fighting because he thought America was going to try and annex him.

Quincy and the President, James Madison, had tried to tell the boy that it wasn't true, but he had somehow knew that it was. James then told the boy that they had only planned to rid their northern neighbor of the British, which was true, and America had somehow knew he was telling the truth.

Quincy shook his head. No need to get distracted by the past. He shook America's shoulder. "Get up, I have some good news."

America woke up with a start, moaning in pain when he suddenly jerked upwards. He rubbed his two sore spots on his chest and shoulder, then looked over at John Quincy Adams.

"Oh, hello Quincy." He said as happily as he could probably manage. "How is everything with you?"

The boy looked only about fifteen years of age, and it broke the older man's heart to see how much the young country was trying to make the pain seem less than it should have been. Quincy sighed.

"My young country, I should be asking you that." He said, smiling softly down at him. "You are, after all, under the most pain."

America smiled that smile: the smile that brightened the room around him. Quincy, though, could see it was somewhat strained. "Oh Quincy, you know what I was asking. Has that bastard of an older brother surrendered yet?"

Quincy laughed. "That's actually what I'm here about, my dear boy! Britain has offered a peace treaty signing in Ghent, Holland, and Madison has assigned me and a few others to take you there and show those bastards how resilient the American people are!"

"Who is Britain sending to this meeting?"

"Some minor officials that answer to the big guys up in Parliment."

America's eyes darkened. "They think we're not worth the effort." Quincy smiled. That's what Madison had thought. "Madison better be sending our best, because we'll show them."

Quincy laughed again. Madison really had connected with America. "We should get you ready then, my boy, because we leave at noon!"

* * *

"Do you think they'll be mad?" America was obviously having second thoughts about this meeting and seeing them again, Quincy thought.

Quincy smiled and put his hand on America's head and ruffled his hair. "Don't worry. If they don't like it, I'll be there with you. The other two are going to start, and I'll come later."

America smiled. "Thanks, Quincy. You're the best guy to back me up... Other than maybe Madison."

Quincy smiled. "Now that's the America I know!"

* * *

He was late. But wasn't he always? The British Empire rolled his eyes. This was pointless. If Lord Liverpool hadn't thought that the war was pointless, he'd be out on the seas, slowly deteriorating the American Navy. Next to him, the accursed country's twin brother, Canada, was sitting quietly.

The door opened, and a young man limped into the room. The British Empire's eyes widened when he saw that it was the country he had been fighting for the past three years. Behind the boy was a man, who was now closing the door, that had on fancy, aristocratic clothes.

America slowly approached the table. Canada stood beside the British Empire. America had finally reached the table in the middle of the small room, and he was now standing in front of it. He glared down at Britain with pure hatred, and the Empire was surprised to find no other emotion, except maybe hurt and betrayal, in his bright, deep, blue eyes.

He sighed. "Quincy, I actually think I can handle this alone."

Quincy? As in Quincy Adams, the Russian Ambassador of America? "My boy, are you quite sure? They aren't expecting me for some minutes now-"

America narrowed his eyes, still glaring directly at Britain. He was starting to feel quite angry. "I'm fine, Quincy. They can't do nothing I can't do back."

Quincy sighed. "Okay, America, if you're quite certain, then there's nothing I can do to change your mind." He walked over to the door. "Show them how resilient us Americans can be!"

The renowned Ambassador then closed the door with a soft click. America looked around, then found a chair. He carried it over - Britain saw that even in his weakened state, he had still managed to keep his inhuman strength - and sat down in it.

"Now then, I hear this is about a peace agreement?" America asked, looking at The Empire across from him. No matter how much he hated the bastard right now... He still had brotherly feelings for him. Canada was the same story, except his hate was more for betrayal and distrust.

The British Empire sighed. "You show up late, and yet you somehow manage not to read the documents I sent you? How irresponsible can you get?"

America's eye twitched. Britain was talking to _him_ about irresponsibility?! He was the one that spent more time out on the sees as a Privateer than bonding with his colonies!

America smiled softly. "Oh, did you not hear? I've been bedridden the past couple of months. The Burning on Washington was quite a doosey, don't you think?"

America could see it: Britain's eyebrows creased in worry and guilt. America enjoyed it thoroughly, his humor dark and lustful. He had been waiting for a moment to make them both feel guilty, and he would do the deed gladly.

"It wasn't that bad. I went easy on you, after all." Britain said nonchalantly.

America laughed, outright laughed. This seemed to surprise both of the nations across from him. "You haven't gone easy on me since the beginning of the war! Oh wait, were you going easy on me in New Orleans?" More guilt flashed across his former older brother's face. "Chesapeake?" More guilt. This was fun! "Oh, or how about Ludy's Lane?"

Canada flinched at that one, and America turned on him. "You think you had it bad? Did you know, that battle field is also part of my land. I felt every single death, every single cry, every. Single. Stab."

Canada looked up at his twin. His face was filled with anger and hurt, but Canada saw through the act. His brother was hurting, hurting very bad. Not just because of physical wounds, either. No, Canada could bet that he was suffering greatly from his brothers turning on him.

America's face softened. "Why'd you do it, Canada? Why'd you team up against me?" His voice was so full of hurt, of betrayal, Canada's heart melted. But on the outside, the young boy's face hardened.

"You were going to annex me. Britain told me." He said confidently. Britain smiled next to him. Canada's heart lifted, until America started to softly chuckle. He sat back against the back of his seat.

"Ever think of doing your own research? Ever think of finding out if the Brit was lying? Which, I can inform you, he was."

"I was most certainly-" The British Empire started hotly. America cut him off.

"Oh, sorry, you're right. He didn't lie to you, he told you the facts that would make me look like the bad guy, then left out the rest."

Britain's eyebrows furrowed, but this time Canada interrupted him before he could speak. "Britain, tell him he's wrong! Tell him you're right!"

Britain was silent, and America rolled his eyes. "I'd explain, but I feel no need to. I will, however, tell you want I was going to do." America cleared his throat. "My government and I were going to annex you, yes. But, what Britain didn't tell you was that we were going to let you go almost immediately afterwards." America's face softened and filled with care and concern as he looked at Canada. "We just wanted the British out of North America, was all."

Canada couldn't believe it. His caretaker had... Lied? Britain stood up, and took America's wrist. America jerked in shock... Or was that pain?

"Let me tell you one thing: I would never lie to Canada ever, and I would never-"

America looked over to the door that had opened. In it stood a young blonde women hold some official parchments, quills, and ink. "Britain, let go of him."

The Empire did so, and America rubbed his wrist, wincing slightly at the pain. Damn, it hurt so much!

The girl walked to the table. "Now, then. The people from your governments have decided on the best solution. You may read this and sign it."

Britain got it first, and he quickly skimmed it, then signed his scrunched-up signature. "Canada, you sign next."

Canada must of heard the statement more as a command, because he didn't even read and it before he signed. The parchment was passed to America, and he slowly read it.

Or, more accurately, skimmed for the signatures of his people. Quincy had signed here and there, and if Quincy agreed with this, than America definitely did.

America smiled. He had practiced for this moment. He took the quill and the ink dish, dipped the quill slowly and delicately into it, then put the quill to the paper.

He started with the 'The', then the 'United States of', and finally, dipping the quill back into the ink, the 'America'. His signature swirled and dipped and raised at all of the perfect points, just as John Hancock had taught him to do. Sadly, though, this was after the British had surrendered at Yorktown, so this was the first time his signature was going on an official document.

America smiled at his signature. It was perfect, and was bigger than either of the other two. He handed the parchment to the lady, and she looked at the signatures.

She smiled at the last one. "That is a very nice signature, Mr. America."

America smiled proudly. He puffed his chest out, but slightly winced at the pain and decided to just sit taller. "Why thank you, miss. I learned from Mr. Hancock himself."

He heard a chocking noise across the table, but kept his blue eyes on the women in front of him. "There's no need to call me miss. I'm a territory of Holland, but my real name is Belgium. Feel free to call me it if you wish."

America smiled. "Why thank you, miss Belgium. I hope we can meet again."

She nodded and walked out of the room, her long dress swishing about her legs. No sooner had America turned around to a glaring Brit did the door burst open again. America felt no need to turn around, as he knew exactly who it was.

"America! Are you hurt? What did the bastard do to you?!" Henry Clay, one of the representatives sent from America, asked, running into the room.

He turned America's head to and fro, then pushed his sleeves up. There was an intake of breath, and America glanced over to see that Canada was staring at his scars in horror and guilt, and Britain was still glaring at him. Clay touched one of the scars, and America's reaction was to slap his arm.

"Ow! Dammit Clay, stop worrying! I'm fine!" America said, rolling his sleeve down again. He had not intended for his brothers to see his wounds, and he felt embarrassed. "Where's Quincy? I need not stay here longer than I must."

"Mr. Adams said he would go ahead and prepare the boat for our departure. He said to tell you it was the quickest way."

America sighed and stood up. He must have done something wrong, because he immediately toppled into Clay, then to the floor with a loud thud.

"Mr. America! Are you alright?!" Clay said, helping the nation up. He dusted himself off.

"I must have stepped with the wrong foot again. No need to worry, Clay." He turned to his two brothers. "It's been _so_ nice seeing you both again, but I need to go now. Canada, I hope you break away from this tyrant soon. And Britain, or should I say, The British Empire?" America smirked at the slight frown that formed from his title. "I promise to surpass you some day. Maybe not soon, maybe not in the distant future, either. But I promise I will show you the might of a country built on freedom can achieve much more than one built from a monarchy."

And with that, the proud country limped out of the room, his nose held high. Clay followed him, and closed the door behind them.

Britain sighed. "Preposterous. He will fail. I give him ten years."

Canada smiled softly, listening to his adoptive father rant about his brother. _Don't worry, brother. I'll make up for not believing in you. I promise to break free as soon as I get the courage._

Canada excused himself, saying he had to go to the bathroom, and ran after his brother. He stopped at what he saw. America was crying on John Quincy Adam's shoulder, shouting in between sobs about the pain he was feeling. Quincy seemed to be telling him soothing words, but they had no effect.

Canada nearly broke down into tears himself. This was not like his joyful, happy brother. Canada promised himself that we would do his brother's wish, even if he didn't have the courage to.

With his resolution now set in stone, Canada marched back into the room, Britain completely oblivious to everything. Canada said he wanted to go home, and Britain obliged. Canada smiled as Britain was leading him away from the crying America.

_How would he break away from Britain and make him pay for what he did?_

* * *

**_Yay! Why the title, you ask? Oh, that's because it's said that the War of 1812 was the second chance for Britain to get us back, and the second time failing. Also, America got a whole bunch of goals accomplished with this war._**

**_If you'd like to see a certain part of history in here, then by all means, as long as it has a character that has been developed somewhat, then send it in! (Aka: no countries like Laos, Vietnam, Brazil, Crete. Places like that that I have no idea about their general behavior, y'know?) They'll eventually make it in here! Drop me a review and/or PM about it!_**

**_Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcomed, but not required!_**

**_~PurpleLuna98_**


	2. Start of the Bloodless War

_**Haha! Another point in history, though not a specific time and/or date. Onwards!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**_

_**Warnings: violence, threats, insults**_

_**Song of the Chapter: Tiptoe by Imagine Dragons**_

* * *

_So, explanation time. So basically from what I read, there were multiple causes of the Cold War. _

_One of them, a rather major one, was that World War II had just ended, leaving the United States of America and the Soviet Union (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, USSR) as the only superpowers left in the world. These two spuerpowers were very different - in politics, economy, geography - in just about every way. Of course, this led to rivalries, and races. Thus, the Cold War began._

_However, it was not only the event of World War II ending that caused the Cold War. If you are talking about the start of it, then you must also include the things that led up to the rivalries and tensions between the nations, yes? One would be that America offered France and the British Empire relief funds after World War II, but not the Soviet Union. You could imagine how pissed they got._

_Another would include way back in 1917, when Russia was going through a giant revolution. The Bolshevik party won, and created the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic, or the Russian Federation. Their new leader was a man named Vladimir Lenin (also known as the man who created the Soviet Union). At first, the United States of America would not recognize Russia as a country, earning loathing and distrust from the new Russian country. Most believe that this was the first event that helped contribute to the Cold War._

_Side notes:_

_-The British Empire was still around during both of these time periods, so instead of calling England 'England', I call him 'Britain'_

_-Kind of unimportant, but did you know that if we recalled all of our debt from _just_ France and England, than America would be able to pay of all of our debts and still have money left over? And people would still owe us money? We wouldn't want to do that, though - it would plunge two major countries into serious poverty, throwing off the balance of the world. Yay for balance! This is slightly hinted at by America in here._

_-The President of America in 1917 was Woodrow Wilson_

_-In 1917, the Soviet Union had not been formed yet, so Russia was just Russia_

_Welp, I feel that's about all the explaining I need to do. Read on!_

* * *

**Start of the Bloodless War: The Start of the Cold War**

1917

* * *

Russia smiled down at America, who was looking defiantly up at him. "So you refuse to recognize me?" The Russian man asked.

"No way in hell. My boss and I both agree that your new government is crazy and insane!"

The Allies were having a meeting, as it was the middle of World War One, and Russia had brought up the subject of how America hadn't recognized his new government yet.

"You will recognize me, _da?_"

"I won't, and your communist government will never begin to compare to my democratic goverment!"

Russia's smile faltered and he stepped closer to America, and bent down farther. "Capitalistic swine like you don't even know how to treat your citizens, _da?_ At least in communism we can all be equal!"

America stepped forward, not even the slightest bit intimidated. "Oh yeah? In America, we may not all be equal, but we have the chance to be! Unlike in the RSFSR, my people have a chance to grow and prosper. Communism makes me sick."

Both countries took another step towards each other, so then their chests were touching. One looked down on the other, his body emitting and angry aura, and the other looked up, defiance literally oozing off of his body. Russia glared at the Western nation in front of him, and America glared up at the Eastern nation in front of him.

Neither was backing down.

Britain stood up. "All right, all right. Let's all calm down and take our seats. We need to get back onto the topic of defeating the Central Powers, am I right?"

"Yes! Britain is right for once!" Belgium said from next to France.

"Hey!" Britain protested.

France nodded, interrupting the British Empire. "I agree with _Angleterre et Belgique,_ you two need to cool down."

America smirked. "Only if the Commie sits down first."

"If America backs down than I shall also." Russia said at the exact same time. He smiled sweetly while America smirked.

Britain sighed. "This is going to be a long meeting."

* * *

Time Skip: 1945

* * *

"Hey Artie, do you need relief funds?" America called, running down the hall towards the Allies' meeting room behind the Englishman.

"No, you bloody twat! I don't need to be in any more debt than I already am to you!"

The American's laughter boomed across the nearly-empty hallways. "Oh Artie, I told you I'd forget about that!"

The voices faded down the hall, and now the hall was empty - minus one man in a long tan trench coat, who had been looking for America for relief funds because his boss had asked him to do it before the meeting. The Soviet's eyes darkened. If that was how it was going to go down, so be it.

The Soviet man stalked into the meeting room, and sat down next to his boss, Joseph Stalin. The table they sat at was shaped like a triangle, and at the two other sides sat two other nations and their leaders: The British Empire with Winston Churchill, and The United States with Harry Truman.

Stalin leaned over to his Soviet representation. "Did you get it?"

"No, and we never will, _da?_" USSR said darkly. He glared at the America to his right, who was talking ecstatically to his boss, who was trying to get him to calm down.

Stalin nodded. "I had expected as much. We will discuss this later."

* * *

"So that's why my awesome boss and I think that we should get Japan!" America said loudly, beating the ruler on the chalkboard again, but this time against the British Empire's outline. "Artie and I should split up Africa, with some going to France, too!" He slammed the ruler onto the Soviet outline. "And Russia, Artie, and I should all split up Europe!"

The Soviet Union raised his hand. The leaders had left to have their own meeting, and the three countries had stayed behind. "What about China?"

"China gets a chunk of Europe, too."

"Why do you get so much land?" Britain asked, obviously having done the math in his head. "You have more than the rest of us!"

"Because I was the hero and came when you guys needed it most! You guys could have never beat Japan or Germany without me!"

"China was doing a lovely job."

"Yeah, holding Japan off."

"I think that we should split the land more evenly, _da?_"

"I agree!"

America got out a map (that surprisingly wasn't only of America). "Yeah, my boss said that you guys would think that! So, he gave me this!" America laid it on the table.

Upon closer inspection, England and the USSR found that the map was of Europe, and another part was of the land Japan controlled. It was all white, minus the oceans.

"Okay, so basically, my boss said that we could use different colored pencils to mark out which areas we wanted, then come to an agreement!"

"That's actually a brilliant idea, America!"

"_Da_, I agree."

"Sweet! So I have red for Soviet, Blue for me, and Green for Artie."

"Call me by my real name, twat!"

"No way!"

"Let's get started now, _da?_"

"Yes."

"Sure, dude!"

After ten seconds, the three countries saw that this would not going to work. America had circled Japan and all of Europe with blue, as had Russia with red, and England had circled all of Europe and parts of Japan with green.

America sighed. "This ain't gonna work."

"Really?" Britain rolled his eyes.

"It was never a good idea." Soviet Union said, inspecting his coat for lint bunnies.

"You were saying it was a few seconds ago, you traitor!"

"If anything, I'd call you the traitor. You give funds to The British Empire, but not to the USSR, _da?_"

"That's because Artie needs my help!"

"I most certainly do not!"

"And the USSR doesn't? Don't worry, I will allow you to make amends, _da?_"

"You're right! The USSR gets nothing, and the rest of the Allies will split it between us!" America smirked when Soviet's smile dropped for a second.

"What?!" Britain exclaimed, looking at the American as if he was crazy.

"I agree with Britain,_ da?_ You can't declare that."

"Oh, can't I?" The western superpower put on a cocky expression.

"No!" The British Empire exclaimed.

"No, the small American nation can't declare anything, _da?_" The Soviet Union said sweetly.

Both superpowers stood at the exact same time. Each had looks of anger on their face.

"What did you say, Commie?"

"You heard what I said, Capitalist."

That was when the three bosses walked in. They saw the state their countries were in, and everyone but Truman sprang into action. America ran over to punch Soviet Union, whom had drawn his pipe, and Britain ran to block both of them. Stalin and Churchill sprang to hold back their country, and Truman smirked slightly.

He suddenly let out a pained yell, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Churchill moved to see what was wrong, and narrowly avoided getting trampled by America, who had barreled past him and to his leader.

"Boss! Boss, you okay?!" He yelled, kneeling by Truman's side, who was coughing.

"I'm... Fine, America..." He said weakly , coughing in between his words.

"What's wrong?!" America exclaimed.

"You're..." He coughed, then stood up straight. "Annoying me. Stop playing games. Let's go home."

The room was deadly silent. Then, the silence was shattered by America's boisterous laughter. "Haha! Good one, boss. You had me worried!" They high-fived.

The two Americans exited the room, talking and laughing about past pranks they had played on each other. Both representatives and leaders from both of the Allied Powers left stared after them.

"Americans are a crazy bunch, aren't they?" Churchill said after a while.

"The one thing we can agree on." Stalin responded.

The meeting ended after the remaining two pairs decided they could do nothing without the American pair there to agree to everything.

Little did the three countries know, that this meeting was the start of a long, bloodless war between the two superpowers: one nation becoming a powerful and feared nation for years to come, and one dissolving into fifteen different countries.

* * *

**_Yay, history! Still looking for events in history (although I have quite a lot...), so if you have any suggestions, feel free to pitch them to me!_**

**_Reviews are welcomed, but not required! Thanks for reading!_**

**_~PurpleLuna98_**


	3. Day that Will Forever Live in Infamy

_**Hello, my followers! Welcome back to Remembering Our Histories!**_

_**Sorry for not updating for a while, guys... My schedule has allowed little to no access of FanFiction, and it will stay that way for quite some time, I'm afraid. I will update as much as I can, though. I promise.**_

_**On with the next snippet of history! This was suggested to me by LinkinParkTheKillersFan. Thanks for the suggestion!**_

* * *

_History Time!_ _World War Two has been rearing its ugly head over in Europe and, thanks to popular demand, America was in the process of practicing Isolationism. Basically, we were refusing to get involved in the second world war._

_However, not wishing to abandon our allies completely, we sent weapons and other supplies over to Europe. However, when the war became too costly for Britain to keep paying for these supplies, the President and Congress (mostly Roosevelt) set up a Lend-Lease program, which basically was where we lent them the supplies._

_Seeing this and not wanting the growing-stronger country to get involved in the war, the Axis decided to plan an attack on America to keep them out of the war in Europe, which by this point was being fought mainly between Italy, Germany, and the British Empire because France had been captured and Russia and Germany had this pact not to attack each other in the war. In Asia, China was fighting a hopeless battle against the Japanese, who were slowly but surely taking over Asia._

_Japan sent a declaration of war to America, and then sent planes to their west instead of across the Pacific Ocean. Making stops along the way in Axis territory, the Japanese ships finally made it to America, but continued on to the west. Finally, reaching Hawaii early on December Seventh, 1941, the guards thought that the planes were friendly. The planes bombed the military base known as Pearl Harbor, killing hundreds and sinking the USS Arizona, and bringing major damage to other military vessels stationed there. _

_Upon finding this out, the America populace was outraged. As you could imagine, it didn't take long for America to join the war against the Axis, finally making the odds somewhat even again._

* * *

**The Day that Will Forever Live in Infamy: Pearl Harbor**

1941

December 7th

* * *

America was having a great day so far. He had gotten up and finished nearly half of his paperwork over a dozen cups of coffee. Then, he had set out on a search for his bomber jacket (which he had misplaced last night), and found it a minute later somewhat hidden in between the wall and the doorway of his closet.

He smiled at himself in his full-length mirror. He wore his usual tan military suit, Texas was sitting on the bridge of his nose, Nantucket was sticking up as it always had, and his bomber jacket adorning his shoulders tied the look all up. He definitely looked like a strong country.

Too bad he felt like shit.

The year was 1941, and America was still recovering from the lapse in his economy that had lasted more than a decade. They were quickly coming out of it, though, because of the war over in Europe. His people wanted to stay out of the war, which they were doing; however, America's boss, FDR, had set up a system in which he sent weapons over to Britain and France, and they paid money for them. Eventually, though, when his allies didn't have enough money to pay, the system would turn into a system of lend-lease. The manufacturing of these weapons and supplies was helping his economy grow and recover quite well.

America walked out of his White House guest room, which he was using more and more to be closer to his boss, and down the hall. He walked past a giant set of windows, and stopped to see the view of his capitol.

It was early December, so there was light snowfall from the sky and a dusting of snow on the lawns. It all looked so perfect, and America smiled, then continued to his destination.

He walked into the door of the Oval Office. His boss, the President of the United States, Franklin Delenor Roosevelt, was sitting in his chair, writing on some paper. He looked up as America approached.

"Ah, America! How are you feeling today, my boy?" He asked, putting his pen down.

America sighed. "Like a pile of shit. But y'know what? I don't really give a care, right now. Everything seems so perfect..." His eyes hardened, "In my experience, this means something bad is going to happen."

"What do you mean by 'bad'?" His boss asked.

"Like, war-bad. It's happened every single time I - we - have gone into a war. The Revolution, 1812, the Civil War, the Great War..."

Roosevelt smiled. "Don't worry, America. As much as I want to get into the war in Europe, our people don't. I am the representative of the people, and you're the representation of the land. Together, we could join it, but that would just not be right. What I'm saying is this: something major will have to happen to sway the peoples' mind."

America frowned. Then he felt something - a prick. On his lower calf. Then, he was hit with an immense pain. It laced up from just above his ankle, through his spine, and up to his head. He shot his hands up to his head and grunted in surprise to the pain.

Roosevelt wheeled over to America's side as America slowly slide to the ground. "America, what's wrong?"

The pain was shooting back and forth from his head to his calf. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever felt, though, so he was at least able to focus on FDR's face.

"I don't know, yet. Just wait a bit..." America had propped himself up against the wall, and Roosevelt was sitting to his side, looking more than just a little worried.

"America, are you all right, at least?" He asked, looking America up and down as he settled into a somewhat comfortable position to prepare for what was next.

"Yeah... It's not the worst pain in the world..." America said, chuckling a bit. "I-"

A burst of pain shot through America's head. Floods of information got shoved into his brain, and he closed his eyes to ease the pain.

There, he saw it. He disclosed himself from his body, then traveled across his land to where the pain was coming from: Hawaii.

When he got there, he was shocked at the carnage. Pearl Harbor, one of America's western-most military bases, was under attack. Battleships were on fire and one, the USS Arizona, was sinking. The planes that were shattered had bomb shells in them, and the planes that were slightly damaged had long scratches running along the sides.

Now that America was closer to the wreckage - actually walking through it, though not physically -, he could feel each and every death of an unsuspecting military man. Most were asleep when they had met their demise, and America's heart panged.

He placed a hand on a random man's forehead. He immediately got a flood of personal information about the man. Jerry Falkten, age thirty-five, had a wife and one kid. He was a private in the United States Navy. Alfred looked into the last memories that Jerry had had, and all he saw was planes flying from the east.

America drew back, suddenly getting some things, and suddenly becoming more confused about others. Someone had bombed the unsuspecting harbor on purpose, for they had come from the east. The officers on duty must have thought the planes were friendly.

But how they weren't.

He heard crunching of boots behind him. America stiffened.

He whirled, seeing a familiar man walking through the carnage, not looking directly at him. He wore a black Japanese naval uniform with many gold medals that showed honor and courage on the battlefield. His dark, black hair draped across his face as he bent down to check the pulse of a man on the ground near Jerry.

"Japan?" America asked, noting the new medals and badges on his friend's uniform. Then, as Japan was standing up, the facts hit him in his face like a freight train.

Japan must have seen his horrified look. "It seems you have put two and two together, America-san."

America noted that instead of calling him by what he usually did (Alfred-kun), Japan had used his formal name. "Kiku..."

"Please refer to me as my country name, America-san."

"Kiku, what the hell happened?! You saw right? It wasn't... It couldn't..." America heard planes in the distance, and he knew what the elephant in the room was.

"America-san, I am deeply sorry. You needed to stay out of the war; you were getting closer and closer to joining."

"But you didn't even send a..." America couldn't even finish the sentence, seeing what he hadn't seen before when Japan had been too far away to see his face properly.

His friend's eyes were glowing a deep and utterly bright red.

"Declaration? But I did, America-san. Now, I think you should go. The next wave of bombs should be arriving in right about-"

America screamed in pain, and surprise. Planes flew overhead from the east, all of them having the Japanese flag on them. They dropped another wave of bombs onto America's military base, causing more damage than was all ready necessary.

"-now." Japan finished, his red eyes flashing with deep amusment. At that, America blacked out of the image.

He woke panting heavily in the President's Oval Office once again. Said President was looking down worriedly at his country's face.

"What happened, America?" Roosevelt asked.

"Japan. Japan has bombed Pearl Harbor." America said, feeling every single bomb drop as if it was dropping on him personally, which, in a sense, it was.

"Japan?" Roosevelt exclaimed in surprise. "Are you quite sure, lad?"

"As sure as I am the United fucking States of America."

Roosevelt glanced up at the door, where a guard was standing. "You called, Mr, President?"

"Tell Congress that I must have a meeting with them as soon as possible. We have some things to discuss."

* * *

**_So for this story, I'm currently working on two chapters: the murder of the Russian czars and D-Day. I've also started a couple other chapters, including, (but not limited to), Gettysburg, colonization of the America colonies, and Manasses/Bull Run. I'm still accepting requests, but I'm pretty sure I've got both world wars covered. Again, sorry for the awkward update schedule!_**

**_Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcomed, but not required._**

**_~PurpleLuna98_**


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